


Antecedent

by notapeeplepersn



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Rising (2007)
Genre: Adaptation, Cannibalism, Kidnapping, Murder, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapeeplepersn/pseuds/notapeeplepersn
Summary: “Hannibal” the series, gave us vagaries with regards to what may or may not have happened to Dr. Lecter’s sister. While I actually like that, since it allows us to ‘imagine’ and come up with our own conclusions, I was inspired to write my theory.I’ve pulled certain details from the book “Hannibal Rising” and blended them with the tantalizing snippets we were given from the show, into one possible scenario about what might have transpired relating to Mischa Lecter’s death.Just as with the TV series, this is an alternate storyline.I will be continuing to edit and fine tune the text, without changing the framework of the story as presented here. No writing, or story, is ever ‘perfect’ or truly original. Yet the basic idea is relatively sound.Enjoy.
Relationships: Brother - Relationship, Family - Relationship, siblings - Relationship, sister - Relationship
Comments: 1





	Antecedent

It was a spring day like any other. Mischa, just four years old, and Chiyoh her friend and protector, were going to meet their friend Camilla, walking along a forest path they knew well on the extensive property of the Lecter estate which ran parallel to the river; the melting snow of the just-passed winter causing the clear pristine water to flow swiftly.

Camilla was the same age as Mischa, same height, body type, weight, nearly the same hair color, in fact, looking at them from the back, it might be difficult to tell them apart, except for their clothes. Where Mischa’s were of the finest material the Count and Lady Lecter could buy, Camilla wore the simple clothing of a young gypsy girl. Her people lived downriver in a semi-permanent gypsy encampment. The children had become fast friends one day when Chiyoh and Mischa had gone with Mother to offer the poor gypsies food and medicine.

Nearly every day Camilla would come up to the great house, Lecter Castle, and play with Mischa, unless Mischa had lessons with Mr. Jakov, her and Hannibal’s tutor. Mother would bake tiny pastries and make finger sandwiches for the little girls’ tea parties, served in a fine china children’s sized miniature tea set.

Mischa was a beautiful child, with deep soulful eyes. She adored her brother Hannibal, and he doted on her. Chiyoh, ten-years-old, was the same age as Hannibal, who was also ‘mature for his age’. Chiyoh was trusted to venture into the forest alone, as well as, to act as guardian for Mischa, when Hannibal was not around. Today he was not.

Today Hannibal had been asked by Count Lecter to accompany Berndt to mend a fence along the estate’s perimeter. ‘Hard work is good for the soul’ and ‘Every man should know how to work with his hands’ were two sayings Hannibal’s father often quoted. They had taken Cesar, the family’s best work horse, with them to pull a cart with tools and supplies, along with lunch, which Cook had prepared.

Although Chiyoh is a loyal and obedient handmaiden to Lady Lecter, she is also a best friend to both Hannibal and Mischa. Chiyoh is intelligent, resourceful, athletic, limber. She often liked to test her skills, and knows how to hunt, kill, and skin wild game.

And so it happened that today Chiyoh was testing her agility and balance, by leaping from rock to rock, boulder to boulder, along the very edge of the river. Mischa, lost in her own little world, skipped along the path, keeping pace with her.

Then, there was a splash, nothing more. That was an odd sound. Maybe a fish had leapt out of the river, like Mischa had seen them do. Coming to a tottering stop, she brushes back some of her golden hair from her pretty cherub face, and looks around. Where was Chiyoh?

Biting on her finger, Mischa hesitantly moves closer to the river’s edge, but knows to be careful as she’s been warned time and again. Hannibal hadn’t yet taught her to swim, though he had promised to. And Hannibal always keeps his promises. Always.

It is then Mischa sees Chiyoh. There, in the water, floating quickly away! Chiyoh knew how to swim, but the water was very deep, and moving so very fast. Mischa could tell Chiyoh was trying to swim, trying to make it to shore, but the water was pulling her downstream. Mischa was afraid and didn’t know what to do! Should she scream for help?

Oh, no! Chiyoh was floating out of sight! Mischa began to run, as fast as her little legs could carry her. Every now and then she would trip and fall and had to get back up again, this causing her to lose track of Chiyoh in the water. Soon she was unable to keep up and had to stop and rest. Mischa’s chest hurt from running and trying to breathe and not to cry. She had to be a big girl. Chiyoh needed her help!

Looking out over the river, Mischa didn’t see Chiyoh any longer. Did she get pulled under? Did ... did Chiyoh drown?!

Mischa had failed. She had failed her friend. She just wasn’t grown up enough. Mother always taught them that it was important to help those less fortunate or those in need, whenever one could. And Mischa hadn’t been able to. This would be a guilt she would carry with her for a very long time.

Wiping angrily at the tears streaming down her face, she sniffles and looks around her. Mischa spent nearly every day in the forest, taking walks or exploring with Chiyoh and Hannibal. So she knew that something didn’t look right. There was ... a bloody hand, sticking up out of a mound of leaves and twigs, and there was a bracelet on the wrist. She recognized the name - Camilla. Nanny had made friendship bracelets for the two little girls, the letters of their names carved on real ivory beads tied on silken thread braided together.

Mischa opens her mouth to scream, to call out for help. Surely someone would hear? But before she can, someone grabs her roughly from behind, clamping a dirty hand over her mouth, silencing any sound she would make. Mischa grew even more scared and began to struggle, until the man leaned down and muttered into her ear, “One peep, and I’ll snap your little neck.” His breath smelled like garlic and dead things.

There must have been more than one man because of the different voices she heard, although she couldn’t see them. Another man came running up, pushing his way through the low-hanging branches of the trees. He obviously didn’t know how to do that the right way. Hannibal and Chiyoh had taught her, and how to climb trees too.

“Well?” Grutas demanded.  
“He fucked us. Well and truly fucked us,” said Grentz, the man who had come through the trees.  
“Milko is an idiot. Always has been,” said Kolnas, one of the voices behind where she couldn’t see.  
“And crazy,” said Dortlich, another voice Mischa would come to know.  
“Just tell us what you saw. What did Milko do?” came another voice, Porvik, also known as Pot Watcher.

Grentz shuffled his feet, shaking his head and then kicked the ground. “He killed them, Count Lecter and his wife. There goes our plan. Who’s gonna pay us for the girl now?” He jerked his head at Mischa who had gone still, tears shimmering in her eyes hearing that her parents were now dead. What about ‘anniba’?!

Kolnas grunted. “He’s right. Ain’t gonna be no ransom.”  
There followed a great deal of grumbling and cursing, and wishing Milko dead.  
Grutas, however, was smarter than all of them put together, clever as he was ugly.  
“Switch the girls’ bracelets,” Grutas ordered.  
“Why?” Dortlich asked.

“If the police think she’s already dead, no one will go looking for her, that’s why,” Grutas stated. Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the others.

“Yeah, but why?” Dortlich asked again, bending down to pull off Camilla’s bracelet before looming over Mischa who tried to cringe away, and yanking hers off her wrist, put each bracelet back on the opposite girl.

It was Pot Watcher who answered. “There are other ways to make money off a pretty little girl.” Being evil, opportunistic men, they had done similar things before. This would be one way to recoup their loss.

Milko had been a childhood friend of Berndt, the Lecter’s groomsman. He had been hired to work on the estate for a time, familiarizing himself, and then telling the others, the layout of the grounds, the schedule of comings and goings by the family, among other important details vital to their plan. None of that mattered now. Milko had indeed, fucked things up. The group of men took their ‘prize’ and left. Leaving Milko to whatever fate awaited him.

It is around this same time that Milko leaves the house to retrieve the girl’s body, having left her where he’d come upon her, where he’d killed her, giving the earth time to marinate the meat. He meant to place what would be left of her with the rest of the dead, once he’d had his ‘meal.’ It made a certain kind of sense to his crazed mind. Milko didn’t care about the plan, he had needs of his own. Cravings. Much more than the other men. They all had a proclivity to the more unusual ‘tastes’ indulging from time to time, but for Milko it was a need he could not ignore. For Milko, he /must/ eat. And he preferred them young, and tender.

Not long after, Berndt and Hannibal return to the Castle, and pull up to the barn in the wagon.

Berndt instructs Hannibal, “Tend to Cesar. I’ll inform Count Lecter we are back, and find out if there is more he would have us do.”

Hannibal nods, having been entrusted with this task many times before. Berndt leaves the boy to his work, and strides purposefully up to the house.

Within minutes Berndt returns, highly agitated, a look of shock and fear on his face. He takes Hannibal firmly by the shoulders. “Hannibal ... stay here. Do not go in the house.” Hannibal makes to say something. Berndt shakes his head. “No. Listen to me. Do as I say. Do not go in the house. Remain here until I return. Do you understand?” Hannibal nods as he knows he is supposed to, but he does not understand. Berndt stares intently into Hannibal’s eyes, to make sure he’s been understood, then nods emphatically. “Good.”

Berndt leaves Hannibal again, withdrawing one of Count Lecter’s pistols from inside his coat, intending to search the property to see if whoever did this awful thing was still there.

Left alone, Hannibal idly pets along the length of Cesar’s nose, thinking. Deciding, Hannibal closed the barn door and walked up towards the house. Of course he would not do as he was told, this time. Something was terribly wrong. Hannibal was certain of that. He meant to find out what.

He /knew/ the moment he opened the door. There was silence. There was never silence. Not like this. Only perhaps at night, when the household was abed. Hannibal wandered from room to room. He found Cook first, in the kitchen, dead, a meat cleaver slicing open the man’s skull. Lothar, Count Lecter’s valet, was in the study, also dead, his head bashed in by the bloody statue next to his body on the floor.

Upstairs he found Nanny, beaten to death, but where was Mischa?! Hannibal did not call out for her. He was unable to speak. Curiously, he also did not feel anything, save fear for his sister. As though in a trance, Hannibal walked to his parents bedroom. There were his mother and father. It was clear Count Lecter had tried to protect his wife, but to no avail. They both had been stabbed, multiple times. Their bodies having fallen together, still holding onto each other’s hand.

Moving slowly, Hannibal descends the staircase, feeling nothing. Not even fear. Where was Chiyoh?

Ernst, the gardener, was found outside the back of the house, his throat slit.

As Hannibal came round the side of the outbuilding, he saw. Saw the dead body of Berndt, a throwing knife stuck squarely in the center of his forehead, his eyes wide open, the gun he never got the chance to fire, lay beside him. He also saw, a man, behaving more like an animal, squatting on the ground, hunched over, eating something, the slavering sounds of the man’s ravenous hunger, quite distinct. And then, he saw. The bracelet. The bracelet with Mischa’s name. On the wrist of the bloody, torn asunder, arm the man was gnawing on. It was then, that Hannibal Lecter, eighth in the family line descended from the legendary Hannibal the Grim ... died. And the monster we would come to know, was born.

The man had not noticed the boy, as of yet. The element of surprise, was Hannibal’s.

A large shovel leaned against the side of the shed he’d just passed. Hannibal calmly went back to get it. Swiftly and silently Hannibal attacked. Although just a boy of ten, Hannibal was strong. A kind of quiet rage filled him. He felt powerful. Just. The man had been lost in the pleasure of his meal, crazed with bloodlust and a hunger that would never be satiated. Hannibal hit the man across the head over and over, and kept right on hitting him until the man no longer moved. Though he was just knocked out, not dead. Some rope hung nearby on the wall of the outbuilding. Hannibal tied the man up with it, using the strong knots Berndt had taught him. 

Both fascinated and repulsed, Hannibal kneels down and gathers up the butchered parts of what he assumes to be his sister’s body, trying to put them back together. But he can’t. There was no face, just pieces of skull and bone, a few teeth. The strands of hair still clinging to what was left of her head, was matted with blood. This … this had once been his beloved sister … Mischa.

What had been done to her was a sacrilege. Beyond reproach. An evil act. Hannibal wanted, no needed, to kill the man lying bleeding and unconscious mere feet away. He knew he could do it, without question. But how best to honor Mischa?

Frowning, he thought back to what the man had been doing, eating her. Revulsion twisted his stomach but he was no longer just a boy. Hannibal was something else. Though he did not consider himself to be like the animal who had done this. He sampled every part of her that was left. This way, his sister would always be with him, she would always be a part of him. They were one now. 

Chiyoh had finally made it to shore, beyond exhausted. She called out again and again for Mischa, but her charge was nowhere to be found. Soaking wet, Chiyoh trudged back along the woodland path, right passed the place Camilla had been buried and Mischa taken. But there was nothing to draw her attention, the ground had been smoothed over, appearing undisturbed. Even Milko, caught up in his crazed cannibalistic hunger, knew enough to cover his tracks.

As Chiyoh approached Lecter Castle, she could sense the difference. She knew the house and grounds well. Brow furrowed, she made to go toward the front entranceway, but a sound stopped her. It was low, perhaps nothing, but with her keen hearing, she heard it. Chiyoh had been taught certain skills, and being alert, considering the ‘out of place’, were among them.

It was there, around back, that Chiyoh found Hannibal, standing over the unconscious body of a man trussed up like a pig, a pistol in his hand. He seemed not to notice her as she moved closer. Hannibal’s shoulders were hunched, his clothing rumpled and dirty, and there was much blood. Had Hannibal been injured? Was this man? Chiyoh could see now who it was. The new worker, Milko. Yes, that was his name. She hadn’t liked him. Thought him not to be trusted.

There was something covered up laying out of the way nearby. Covered by the blanket Hannibal had gone into the house to get. Care had been taken with the covering, Chiyoh could see that. 

Hannibal had not yet decided on how to do it. A bullet to the head seemed far too easy, too merciful. Not nearly an even trade. Hannibal wanted the man to suffer for eternity. Yet even though he had been exposed to religion at an early age, he did not believe. So there would be no Hell for the one who had taken from him the most precious and rarest of jewels, his Mischa. Unless … there was a way to create a Hell on Earth. The idea held merit. Hannibal pondered these things as he stood there, oblivious to Chiyoh’s presence.

Then … deciding, Hannibal’s posture changed, his shoulders straightened, his head reared up, chin lifted regally, his bearing one of culture, good breeding, of a long and powerful ancestry, that of the proud lineage of the Lecter bloodline.

Chiyoh moved closer, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she sees Hannibal’s face. For it is not the face of the boy she has come to know. It is not often Chiyoh feels fear, but gazing into the face of Hannibal Lecter at that very moment, she does.

Hesitantly, Chiyoh reaches out, as if to touch the sleeve of Hannibal’s bloody coat, to draw his attention away from whatever had brought on this madness. For that is what she sees, evil and madness. But before she can, Hannibal looks Chiyoh directly in the eyes, as though he knew she was there the entire time.

“He killed her. He ate her.” The voice coming from Hannibal’s mouth was not his, either. There was a slight metallic rasp to it. Like that of a demon. Hearing this, Chiyoh’s face drained of color; her blood running cold. Chiyoh’s gaze flicked over to the small human-shaped lump covered by the blanket. Mischa?! No!

Once he came awake, the man at first pleaded for his life, but soon realized it was pointless and then began to cackle like a madman, because he was one. Spewing forth curses, ranting about how good the girl had tasted, intent on furthering their torment, but instead of inciting more rage, all he got for his troubles was a boot kick to the face, and blinding darkness once more.

Chiyoh surmises Mischa must have run back to the house to get help and that’s when the man killed her along with the others. Chiyoh was afraid for Hannibal, what killing the man would do to him, and that his parents wouldn’t have wanted him to do that, as it was outside the law, and would destroy his life. 

It took some doing, but Chiyoh convinces Hannibal to let the man live, to be kept alive but as a prisoner, as a slow form of torture, locked up in a cage like an animal, treated as less than human. Together they planned on what to do. They knew the authorities would become involved, that they would look into what happened, there would be questions. They needed to agree on what to tell them. It was simple. Keep to the truth as much as possible, except for their secret.

The property of the Lecter estate was extensive. There were many places Chiyoh could disappear with her captive until the people searched no more. She would do this, make this sacrifice for Mischa, to save Hannibal, out of honor and loyalty, and the love she held for them both.

Hannibal made the call to the police. In the drawing room he picked up the handset of the antique French phone his mother had loved. His voice was emotionless. “This is Hannibal Lecter. You must come to Lecter Castle immediately. They are all dead. Come now.”

The authorities send word to Hannibal’s uncle, Robert Lecter, in France. Hannibal’s uncle arrives in Lithuania to see to the family estate, and to take Hannibal back to France with him.

Robert asks, “Hannibal, where is Chiyoh?” Chiyoh was his wife, Lady Murasaki’s, niece.

Hannibal looks up at his uncle as if he does not understand the question. “Chiyoh?”

Robert nods gravely, his gaze intent on his nephew’s face.

“Oh. Chiyoh went to the gypsy encampment to search for whoever did this. To find them. I told her not to go. I told her the police would come. They would find them. But she wouldn’t listen.”

This was a grievous thing but it would be Robert Lecter’s fear that Chiyoh may have become a victim of the very same murderous cannibal who had killed his family.

Robert Lecter had no reason not to believe Hannibal, or to even think that the boy could be lying. Why would he? Hannibal had been taught lies were wrong. Hannibal had been taught manners.

At this time period, in a less modern European country, in a town away from any big city, things are done a bit different there. The old ways, and long-standing traditions, are still practiced. Old prejudices run deep, and myths are often still believed.

Once it is know that the Lecter family, save Hannibal, and their entire household have been murdered, the gypsies are blamed and driven out, no care given for any missing gypsy child, with very little attention given to finding some lowly Japanese girl either. No word of Camilla being missing gets back to Hannibal or Robert Lecter, and no further investigation is conducted.

The precious silver cuff baby bracelet engraved with Mischa’s name, was not found with her body. Though it was searched for, exhaustively, the bracelet was presumed lost. Hannibal had no way of knowing there were more men involved, otherwise he’d have sought them out.

Chiyoh hides out with Milko, until it is safe to return. It is at Lecter Castle that Will Graham finds Chiyoh keeping watch over the man she holds captive in the dungeons, years later.

**Author's Note:**

> {Rough Draft - August 25th, 2020}


End file.
